


Wicked Games

by lolamit



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternative Perspective, Death, F/F, How Do I Tag, Inspired by Suicide Squad, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Metahumans, Minor Violence, POV Alec Lightwood, POV Magnus Bane, Villains, Violence, i honestly don't know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolamit/pseuds/lolamit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New York City local, Magnus Bane, is called into work in the middle of the night by his boss at the United States Protection Program. Teamed up with Rogue, the redhead wildcard, and Fang, the quiet and reluctant inmate, he's sent on a mission to find and stop a trio of psychotic murderers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Games

**Author's Note:**

> An attempt at writing a superhero vs villain au. Inspired by Suicide Squad ~~and probably bad as fuck but hey~~
> 
> Things you should know:  
> 1\. The characters might be a little alternated, but I tried to make them extreme versions of themselves, though whether or not I succeeded is a whole other question.  
> 2\. I'm shit at coming up with names and nicknames so sorry about the lack of creativity in that department.  
> 3\. Told from two perspectives; good side ( _I Am No Hero_ ) and bad side ( _You Don't Own Me_ ).  
> 4\. You are very kind and amazing for reading this, thank you dear human.

**I Am No Hero**

_Magnus Bane. Report for duty._

With a jolt, Magnus awoke. Sweating, heaving, blind in the darkness surrounding him. There was a beep, then silence, his telephone sending rapid flickers in his direction, indicating a new message in his voicemail. There was only one reason he kept a landline, and it was for situations like these. 

Without hesitation, he got dressed, grabbed his gear and left the building. Locking up before hopping in his car, a special designed Bugatti, color yellow and seats of leather. It was a gift from last year, when Magnus saved the company’s CEO from a hijacked private jet, and he had no trouble showing it off to the world. 

Thirty minutes later, he reached the headquarters of the New York Institute, one of the many branches created due to the U.S.P.P., also known as the United States Protection Program. The organization was founded in 1875, ten years after the American Civil War ended, to ensure complete protection for the country’s population. Back then, it was from thieves, burglars, murderers, however, things had changed over the years. Computers were invented, artificial intelligence, machine guns. A whole heap of new and improved utilities, some meant to be used as weapons, others not, yet unstoppable if put to the test. 

But despite all that, what had evolved to be the most frightening and dangerous, were the people. The very humans who walked this earth – whether obsessed with social media, addicted to drugs, burned out from work, or simply psychopaths – were the biggest threat to their own kind. 

“Magnus Bane,” he told the guard as he drove up to the gates.

Everyone knew Magnus, and Magnus knew that everyone knew him, so he never bothered with names. People were selfish, ungrateful and did not – in Magnus’ preferred opinion – deserve to exist on this earth. Yet, he continued fighting for their lives, risking his own to keep the population of America safe and sound. 

 

“What you got?” his question was directed at _Big Boss_ , as Magnus so cleverly had named her.

“Finally,” she replied. “You’ve got some work to do.”

Big Boss was an FBI agent who left her duties to work for the U.S.P.P., and was now president of the New York Institute. Her real name was classified, though not to Magnus, as she’d been the one to pick him out of the dust to create a protector of the city, so to him, she was Lydia Branwell. He wouldn’t classify their relationship as friends, more likely colleagues, even though she was his boss. 

“Alright, I’m listening,” Magnus took a seat at the round table between them, watching her turn the whiteboard to reveal a mess of scribbles and lines and pictures. 

“Settle down, we’ve got company.”

 

A moment later, the door swung open and Magnus was quick to his feet, ready for combat. But this was unnecessary, as a short, red-haired woman with a look so sharp it could cut through stone, stepped inside the room. She was slim, yet had a strong built, and she rolled her eyes as soon as they landed on Magnus. 

“If it isn’t the warlock himself,” she sneered. 

“And you are?” Magnus inquired, as intrigued as he was confused.

“They call me Rogue,” she said, leaving two seats between them as she sat down. 

Magnus turned his head to Lydia, expecting an explanation, but her eyes were still watching the open door, as if there was more to come. And, of course, not even a minute later, another stranger appeared in the doorway. This time it was a man, pale as snow and with a frown that seemed constant. 

“Welcome,” Lydia spoke, gesturing for the stranger to take a seat. 

The door closed, and silence fell, building tension as well as discomfort. Thankfully, Big Boss was quick to break the ice and begun her introduction. 

 

“I’m certain you all know why I’ve brought you here. To serve your country, protect the people and fight crime. In this case, a trinity of villains who call themselves the _Trio de la Muerte_ , which translates to _Trio of Death_ , but we just call them the Trio. A bit simpler,” she spoke assertively. “The members are Isabelle Lightwood, also known as _The Whip_ , Alexander Lightwood, also known as _Quiver_ , and last but not least, Jace Wayland, also known as _Seraph_ , rumored to be an outcast angel who lost most of his powers, but still possesses some,” she pointed from picture to picture on the whiteboard as she introduced the bad guys. “All three are extremely dangerous and, to say the least, crazy. We’ve been after them for years without success, and that’s where you come in.”

Magnus listened intently, reading every last scribble on that board for as much information as possible. Allegedly, the Lightwoods were sister and brother, whose family took in Jace Wayland as a boy, and now they were unleashing their wrath on the city of New York. Why? Magnus didn’t know, and neither could he find anything about it in the mess of clues in front of him. 

“Sounds like a bunch of freaks if you ask me,” the redhead sighed. 

“Takes one to know one,” the man, who hadn’t spoken until now, said, receiving a glare back. 

“They’re not metahumans, but they do have enhanced powers such as strength, agility and aim. The archer, Alexander, is known as _Devil’s Bow_ in Mexico, and the other two have also stacked up some aliases over the years. Isabelle is incredibly fast and agile, and an even bigger threat armed with her whip,” Lydia continued. 

“A whip?” Rogue scoffed. “That’s creative.”

“You should be careful what you insult. That whip has immense powers – electricity, poison, inhuman strength – completely controlled by its owner,” Lydia responded. 

“What’s with the angel?” Magnus asked, curious. 

“Jace Wayland? He’s an interesting case. Found by Robert and Maryse Lightwood at the age of ten, and raised as one of their own. Unfortunately, the Lightwoods aren’t exactly known for their kindness, resulting in this villainous trio. However, the story of Jace is somewhat indefinite, as it all relies on age-old religious myths, but shall we choose to believe it, he was once what is called a _Seraph_. A six-winged, celestial being, though booted from heaven and fallen to earth,” Lydia explained, but seemed doubtful. “But, of course, there is no way of telling.”

Magnus leaned back in his chair, taking the information in any way he could, as Lydia answered some questions before taking a seat across from Magnus.

 

“Now it’s time to get to know you,” she said, looking at each one of them individually. 

“Ooh, are we going to play a game?” the redhead taunted, which made Lydia turn to her.

“This is Clary Fray, alias Rogue, as she’s known to be quite the wildcard. Clary specializes in close-up combat and has an attitude problem that seems to be incurable,” Lydia spoke, a complacent smile plastered on her face. 

“Don't forget my hair,” Clary smirked back.

“What about your hair?” Magnus questioned and the girl turned to him.

“It could scorn an entire city if I wanted to,” she spoke with a wry smile, and Magnus turned to Lydia in confusion. 

“Clary is a metahuman. Her hair can set on fire, hence the red,” Lydia explained. “But, that is only a last resort, right Clary?” 

Clary rolled her eyes, but nodded ever so lightly.

 

Next Lydia turned to Magnus. 

“You both probably know Magnus, or more commonly known as the Warlock. He will be your team leader during this mission, and whatever he sees, I see. Same goes for the rest of the senses,” she said, making her mark, once again, as Big Boss. 

 

Last but not least, the man who’d barely spoken a word, patiently listening or silently judging. 

“Raphael Santiago,” she smiled. “What a pleasure to finally meet you. Raphael here, is an old acquaintance of the Trio, knows details and things that could help you. He is most commonly known as Fang.” 

Magnus was about to ask why, as Raphael lifted his upper lip, exposing his sharp, white teeth while a hissing sound escaped his mouth. 

“So what are you, a good vampire?” Clary scoffed. “Or a reverse good girl, gone bad?”

“I kill people for pleasure,” Raphael hissed. “And then I drink their blood.”

A flash of uneasiness washed over Clary’s face, as if surprised by his ability to talk. Magnus was a bit unsettled too. Was this man actually a vampire, or simply mad enough to believe he was?

“Raphael agreed to help you on this mission in exchange for a shorter time in prison. He’s been kept in solitary confinement for the past four years, locked up for serial murder, but as of right now, he’s one of the good guys,” Lydia explained, seemingly okay with sitting next to a cold-blooded killer. 

“And what exactly is our mission?” Magnus asked, running out of patience. 

“Find the Trio of Death,” Lydia ordered. “And bring them to me.”

“In what condition?” Clary cocked her eyebrow.

Lydia turned to her, a sudden gravity flashing in her eyes as she spoke. “Dead or alive.” 

 

Then the three were off, loaded up with gear and weapons and ammo, ready to go. 

 

They took a civilian car – after Magnus had asked, if not begged, that they’d take his, but was turned down – to what would become their lair, as working from the Institute would be too obvious. The lair was a small, shabby apartment, with only a table and a set of chairs, a couch and a fridge. Not that they’d be spending all that much time in there, anyway, but Magnus was used to a bit more luxury. 

The vamp was quiet all the way there, not making a sound, contrary to Clary, who, when she spoke, which thank god wasn’t often, always had something witty or sarcastic to say. Magnus wasn’t over the moon with these arrangements, nor with his company, but it was all for the greater good, so he’d had to survive.

 

**You Don’t Own Me**

“Izzy, did you take out the trash?” Alec’s voice boomed across the room. 

“Yeah, threw him in the dumpster across the street,” she smiled as she sat down at the table. 

“I hope you wore your gloves,” Alec said, noticing her bare hands.

“Of course, big brother,” she rolled her eyes. “Jace is the dumb one.” 

A groan erupted from the couch beside them, followed by a muffled, “I heard that”. The other two laughed at their brother, because as far as siblings go, blood never truly mattered. The day their parents had brought in Jace, was the day he became part of the family, and till this day, they went everywhere together. 

But, today they had to keep a low profile, due to some peasants who thought they were heroes. A bunch of freaks, if you asked Alec. In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure why they were after them. What had they done that was so wrong? Killing is hardly a sin, can you imagine all the people who would go to hell if it was? Police officers, soldiers, both very respected professions. Then of course, there were hitmen, murderers, serial killers, psychopaths, and himself, his brother and sister. Though, how could you blame them? You try growing up with their parents, and surely you’d go off the rails too. 

It’s not like they wanted complete world dominance. America would definitely do. Hell, they might even settle for New York City only, if it offers what they require. 

 

“Are we going to stay here all day?” Isabelle whined. “I just want to have fun.”

“How about we have some fun with those cape-wearers,” Jace grinned, but was quickly shut down by Alec.

“We’ll get our fun,” he said. “Just not today.”

 

The hours went by and Isabelle was starting to go crazy, or, craz _ier_ , with every passing minute, singing and groaning alternately, every so often bursting out in laughter for no apparent reason. Jace, however, had fallen back asleep on the couch after a long session with his punching bag, and was snoring soundly as Alec schemed. He was the oldest, and thus the one in charge. Always had been, always will be, and no one seemed to have a problem with the lack of responsibility. 

They didn’t have a grand plan, their crimes were usually decided in the moment, out of spontaneity, which wasn’t exactly good while cleaning up. But every now and then, they’d master a bank robbing, or terror attack on whomever they thought deserved it. The reasoning behind this, was that they didn’t need plans, as long as they had each other and their abilities. Izzy could take out a hundred people in the matter of minutes with her whip, Jace too, and as for Alec, his work was done from afar, allowing him to knock down the ones his siblings missed. No matter what happened, they always got away, even when one of them was caught. 

 

“Alright, who’s hungry?” Alec asked once the clock struck midnight.

“Do you _have_ to ask?” Izzy rolled her eyes, Jace scoffing behind her.

“Let’s grab a bite,” he said, and led the way. 

They decided to stop by at a small, Italian restaurant, almost empty at this time. The waiter greeted them with a thick, Italian accent as they were seated at a window booth. Once their orders had arrived, and they’d stuffed every last piece into their mouths, the waiter came back with the check, making the three smile cruelly. 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Alec said, pointing to the note in the man’s hand.

“S-sir, you must pay,” the waiter stammered, as Jace slowly revealed his blade from his coat pocket. 

“Actually, I don’t,” Alec sneered. “See, my siblings and I think it’s only fair that you let us go. Or else we’ll have to kill you.”

Fear clouded the waiter’s eyes as he was clearly contemplating the situation. He stuttered out some incomprehensible words, immediately mocked by Jace, as his eyes rapidly shifted between the three. Though Alec could be patient, Isabelle lacked that trait and hurried the moment. 

“So, are you going to let us leave?” she asked, putting her hand under the waiter’s chin, moving it up and down as to make him nod. Smiling broadly, she said, “That’s a good boy.”

 

They got out of their seats, heading for the exit, as Izzy turned around one last time. The waiter was standing paralyzed, watching them go, unable to do anything about it. He blinked a few times as Isabelle’s bracelet slithered from her wrist to her hand, now the shape of a whip. She took one last glance before thrusting her arm forward, the whip hitting the waiter’s chest before bouncing back, crawling back up her arm to its rightful place. As she turned around, the man behind her fell to the floor, coughing up blood and shaking uncontrollably. A complacent smile formed on her blood red lips as she followed her brothers outside. 

“I love being bad,” she cheered, receiving a smirk from Jace. 

 

**I Am No Hero**

They spent the next couple of days scouring the city for clues to the Trios whereabouts, but were unsuccessful. Every time they got a lead, it either washed away or ended up being false, making the whole thing a lot more difficult. Lydia had been in contact through radio, to provide new information when possible, and to make sure they were doing their job. 

They usually slept in shifts, one awake in case their enemies made an entrance, but tonight that seemed unnecessary. Clary curled up on the couch, while Magnus and Raphael slept on the floor, which turned out to be more comfortable than they thought. Though it didn't last long, as Lydia’s voice echoed over the room as Magnus glanced at the clock. 2 am. _Great_.

 

_"Task force 3, come in.”_

 

“We’re just task force 3?” Clary groaned. “Who the hell are the other two?” 

Magnus rose from his spot on the floor with a loud sigh, as his coworkers seemed unaffected by their boss’ command. He picked up the radio and closed his eyes. 

“Task force 3 here, over.” 

“The Trio was spotted leaving an Italian restaurant down in Brooklyn just now,” she said. “One reported death. Over.” 

“We’re on our way,” Magnus opened his eyes again, breathing out the words rather than speaking them. “Over and out.” 

Clary and Raphael had already made themselves ready, stacking up guns and knives in their holsters. Magnus caught on, getting ready for their first legit lead in days, before the three were out the door and in the car. 

 

It wasn't a long drive, and soon they arrived at the crime scene, packed with cops and curious bystanders. They pushed through the crowd and went inside, needless to show their badges as everyone knew Magnus, and whoever was in Magnus’ company. 

“Bane,” an officer Magnus had met before, his name unregistered, called. 

On the floor lay a man in a pool of blood, seemingly his own. Raphael took a step back, told the other two he would talk to a witness, and swallowed hard before heading to the next room. 

Clary scoffed. “Typical vamp.” 

“So, what happened to him?” Magnus asked officer shades-inside, fixating his eyes on the corpse in front of them. 

“We’re not sure, still waiting for the forensic, but my guess is that damn _whip girl_ ,” he said. “No bullet wounds, cuts, or signs of violence at all. Just this mark on his chest, it looks kind of like a bite.” 

The officer lifted the victim’s shirt, and surely, there was a bite. Two small holes in the skin, reminding of the bite of a snake.

“Cute,” Clary said, indifferent. “Where’s the witness?” 

The officer pointed behind them, and as they turned around, they could see Raphael talking to an older man in chef’s clothing. On their way over, Raphael turned, meeting them halfway. Magnus shot him a questioning look. 

“Two men, one woman. The guy over there was the only working waiter, and when handing out the check took longer than usually, chef Linetti here, decided to take a peek,” Raphael said, gesturing to the man still behind him. “The woman was the last to leave, but he didn't see the actual attack.” 

 

Magnus sighed, as they had no real leads at all, but at least the crowd outside had diminished. 

 

“Alright, vamp,” Clary said as they got outside. “You’re up.” 

Raphael frowned, his eyes confused as they shifted between Magnus and Clary. “What do you mean?”

“Can’t you like sniff them out for us?” she asked, a discreet smirk on her lips.

Raphael scoffed. “I can smell the blood in your veins,” he sneered. “But I’m no dog.”

“That’s right, you’re not a dog. You’re a psycho killer who drinks blood,” Clary shot him a wink, which he responded to by rolling his eyes. 

“Enough, guys,” Magnus demanded, still upset about the lack of evidence they’d gathered. “You two search the area, I’ll stay here and update Lydia, in case the cops find anything else. Meet back at the apartment in one hour.”

Clary groaned, but turned around with Raphael right at her heel. A quiet sigh could be heard, followed by, _“Who died and made him boss?”_ , as the two walked off. Magnus chuckled, not sure if he was coming around to tolerate these people or just deprived of sleep. He picked up his radio, contacting Lydia with their latest information. She had nothing to add, the Trio doing a fine job with disappearing into thin air. 

 

Clary and Raphael found little to no clues on their search, arriving at the apartment only minutes after Magnus had, their eyes drooping with weariness. Magnus, however, was sitting at the table, staring down at every piece of leads they had – which wasn’t a lot – and barely noticed the two join him. 

“Whoever said being a hero would be fun, obviously never tried,” Raphael sighed, making Magnus’ head fly up in shock.

“I’m not a hero,” Clary was quick to respond. “I do this for my mom.”

Magnus cocked his eyebrow. “Why?”

Her eyes turned serious, as she stared at him. “Haven’t you ever loved somebody?”

Raphael scoffed, obviously unfamiliar with the feeling, as Magnus sensed a sob story he had very little interest in. But, she continued talking before he could stop her. 

“About a year ago, my mother was kidnapped, and I tried my best to find her. I searched high and low, but I never found her,” her eyes dropped to the floor. “That was until two months ago, when I got a letter delivered to my door, a picture of her slit throat inside, along with the word “ _Oops_ ”,” she raised her head again, this time fury clouding her eyes instead of grief. “The letter was signed with their symbol, three skulls, and since that day I swore I would never give up. I will avenge my mother, no matter the consequences.”

Magnus didn’t know what to say, unable to move his eyes from the intensity in Clary’s. Her jaw was clenched and her hands in perfect fists on the table, as she tried to restrain herself. Magnus noticed a shift in the red of her hair, turning into a brighter red, almost glowing, and he realized then, that anger was a trigger. A very dangerous trigger, by the looks of it, as he knew squat about Clary’s metahuman abilities, but, as the glowing faded, he thought it was best not to ask. 

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, receiving a mischievous look from Clary.

“So, why do you do it, Mr. Magic?” she laughed. “You haven’t showed off any of your tricks yet.”

“They’re not tricks, they’re powers,” Magnus shot her a stern look. “And I do it for the greater good.” 

Clary burst into laughter, doubling over the table as if she’d just heard the best joke in history. Magnus frowned, not understanding what was so hilarious, and feeling quite ridiculed by her sudden mockery. He’d listened and respected her reason, while she didn’t hesitate to laugh her head off. Raphael was trying to hide a smile when Magnus turned to him, both of the clearly foreign to the concept of pure intentions. 

“You know what, screw both of you,” he barked as he got out of his chair to go back to sleep.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Clary gasped, mockery filling her falsely astonished voice. 

 

Surely, Magnus had begun coming around, but he’d be damned if he ever found himself getting along with Clary _Rogue_ Fray.

**Author's Note:**

> If I get at least some positive response on this, I will continue, as this was actually pretty fun to write. 
> 
> Please leave a comment below if you'd like me to! It's incredibly encouraging and keeps my motivation up, so thank you, and thank you for reading. It truly means the world. Peace out <3


End file.
